


By Any Other Name

by brennivin



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Blood Drinking, Dragon Jonathan, Dubious Consent, Dysfunctional Relationships, Enemies to Lovers, Force-Feeding, Love/Hate, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Rough Oral Sex, Self-Hatred, Semi-Public Sex, Switching, Trauma, Trauma Bonding, evil Jonathan I can not stress enough how evil he is, nemrod geoffrey, violent jackasses in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27581900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brennivin/pseuds/brennivin
Summary: > A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. <- - - - -Geoffrey McCullum undergoes a difficult, stressful life change thanks to a decision made on a whim by a savage young ekon. Needless to say, he's in for some growing pains when even the guidance of his maker leads to further torment.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid, Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid/Edgar Swansea, Jonathan Reid/Edgar Swansea
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	1. metamorphosis

Falling to his knees, his shame had never been so palpable. 

He was a  _ vampire hunter _ . If he were not a vampire hunter there would be little else he was, for he had no other family or purpose in life outside the Guard. This was all that he knew how to do, and he couldn’t even do it correctly. He couldn’t even execute some uppity young Ekon. What could he do correctly anymore if he could not do this?

Reid walked closer, dropping his now filthy surgical saw onto the floor with a dark thud. His footsteps rung through McCullum’s brain. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

He’d made himself painfully clear; Reid could never convince him to take his side. He would never have sympathy for fucking vampires as long as he was alive.

Then that big, freakishly kind hand cupped his chin and pulled his face up so that he was forced to look up into his dirty eyes. The sclera were darkened, his irises tinted the colour of fresh blood. It was hard to notice unless you really stared at him, but the pupils were almost feline - more slits that circles. Just what had he turned into? It was hard to imagine what he must have looked like before, as just any ordinary human man. Well, as ordinary as a posh bastard like himself could look.

His fingers curled around his face, feeling through his short rough facial hair and filling his body with the oddest feeling. His touch was penetrating Geoffrey’s mind and sinking deep into his psyche just like his footsteps but worse. Was he using some disgusting vampire mind trickery? He’d better not be. Geoffrey had seen that before – Ekons had that disturbing ability to catch a human mind in a cloud of hypnosis.

“I can’t possibly change you, hmm?” His voice turned grimly cruel as he mocked the hunter’s assertion.

He hid his fear well. He’d learned as much. “Is my conviction funny to you, leech?”

“Indeed it is.”

He peeled back his lips to reveal his unusually sharp incisors, extending them to full length and revealing his true, brutal nature. Geoffrey would never admit the way his heart pounded at the sight. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen an Ekon bare their fangs, it was simply that he’d never seen it from one so oddly handsome as Reid. Vampire or not, he had noticed exactly how good he looked since the very first time. Now his feelings were at conflict with each other, almost overlapping and obscuring. Fear and attraction were getting muddled, and becoming hard to tell apart. Perhaps it was his weakened state that was causing his confusion.

“After all, I can think of a way to do just that.”

Biting into the sleeve of his coat, he inched his clothing up his arm so that his wrist was bare, before biting into his own flesh. Geoffrey struggled, but he felt that tender hand tighten around his jaw severely, the lick of his emerging claws a terrible threat. He was a courageous man but he wasn’t stupid. He knew how easily Jonathan could slice into his face if he really wanted to.

He watched helplessly as Jonathan Reid filled his mouth with his own blood.

“You can’t. No.”

He wanted to struggle more, but feared those claws and those teeth enough to remain stone still. His fingers were splayed out on the uneven wooden boards beneath him, twitching with restlessness in search of his crossbow which had fallen to the floor nearby. His body wanted so badly to betray him and get him hurt. He really needed to fight, or at the very least escape.

“I can.” He growled as his teeth slipped free from the open wound on his arm. “Consider this my kiss of Judas.”

Then that horrifyingly strong hand was dragging him closer and he was leaning in and Geoffrey was frozen. Lips closed over his, skin cold as death but blood hot as cinders as it slipped into his mouth. He did his best to resist but it was already inside him, metallic and intoxicating and bizarrely sweet. Jonathan’s tongue was running dexterously over his own and coaxing him into swallowing and a thousand thoughts were rushing through his skull.

Not this. Anything but this. Christ, please, not this.

But then the taste was overloading those thoughts and all he could think about was that tongue and the sweet blood and the hand possessively clamped around his jaw. Without the ability to produce even a single coherent thought he moaned on a shuddering breath and Reid swallowed it. It felt as if he were swallowing his mortal soul, drawing it out through his mouth and replacing it with his tainted toxic blood.

He pulled back to let McCullum breathe, watching how the life in his eyes was starting to flicker and ebb away. His death and rebirth was imminent.

And yet, his face was flushed with rigor somehow.

His twitching, trembling fingers tangled themselves in the lapels of the good doctor’s coat and coaxed him back in. Despite how easily he could resist, Reid followed the gentle tug and indulged him. The thought was exciting. It would be easy for him to walk away now and leave him to spiral painfully through his transformation and yet he remained looming over him, on one knee in this room cast with misshapen shadows.

“My progeny.” He whispered against Geoffrey’s lips, somehow predatory and protective at the same time.

There was no room to question his own actions right now. He just pulled him in and gorged himself on the flavour of his undead blood, the texture of his well-groomed beard against his chin exciting him almost as much as the ragged breath that escaped Reid’s nose. It was as if his mind were slowly shutting down and he was acting on pure instinct.

Pulling back away again, Jonathan looked at him in startled arousal. He was frightfully upper class, getting all flustered at a mere kiss. The shame and nervousness on his face spoke a thousand words, even if actual speech was failing him.

“Doctor.” He breathed, feeling his heart rate rising to a speed he’d never thought possible. He would soon be dying and coming to life all at once, and he could feel it. His voice was barely audible, a whine carried by a feeble breath. “Doctor Reid. I’m scared.” 

He continued to take in the sight of him, obviously enjoying it more than he was letting on. Then his hand finally released Geoffrey’s face. “You used my name.”

He could feel the circulation in his chin and jaw pounding and burning in the spots where he’d touched him, the surface of his skin numbing while his body burned with terrible energy underneath.

“I’m scared. Please. Please, stay.” He could barely even speak anymore, and his words were more of a stream-of-consciousness mess than real conversation. Geoffrey couldn’t even muster the strength to be ashamed of how he was acting.

Reid was already several steps ahead of him, laying him flat on the dirty floor and pulling open his scarf to press his face to his neck and inhale his scent. He would have to wait to feed on his blood some other time, was probably his line of reasoning. McCullum could not endure the strain of losing even a small amount of blood right now, in the throes of such a strenuous transformation.

‘It hurts.” He muttered. 

Reid ran his tongue across his throat and pulled a panicked gasp from him.

“Let me distract you.”

“N-No.”

“Don’t pretend you haven’t wanted this.”

He was right. For a moment Geoffrey wished he wasn’t.

“I— Oh, fuck you, Reid.“

He tried to protest and complain, but his head started to spin and all he could even perceive anymore was the young Ekon’s fingers wrestling with the fastenings of his clothes. He was in no position to say yes or no to this, but it seemed he had no need to. He was being turned over and his coat thrown off of him before he could even think of further insults.

“My progeny, let me take care of you.” Reid growled, his long teeth scraping dangerously against the shell of Geoffrey’s ear and his voice echoing in his skull. 

That. That was the mesmer he’d been anticipating. He didn’t even want to resist anymore. He just didn’t have the mental or physical energy to care. A part of him wanted this, too. A million different sensations were washing through him like a tremendous wave. Those ice cold fingers quickly took to whatever skin he could reveal and it was the only comfort he had; a disturbing and disgusting comfort.

“Don’t you dare.”

Reid was seemingly drunk on the excitement of overpowering and taking him, shucking off his trousers and underwear with frightening ease. 

He could hear him popping open some small container behind him, then the sound of skin on skin. Then he could feel it. He could feel the blunt heat and the slickness of it pressing against the back of his thigh as those terrible hands lifted his hips for easier access.

“P-Please.”

“You’re mine. You’re mine now.” The doctor whispered into his ear, and the words registered directly in his mind like some awful telepathy. “Yield to me.”

In spite of himself, the mesmer took over him and he had no choice but to let his guard down. There was no more concealing how he enjoyed it. His body was so weakened by the strain of what was happening inside of him that he was able to offer no resistance physically, nor mentally. The added lubrication made it sickeningly easy. A shameless moan of combined rapture and disgust erupted from within him and echoed in the tall, almost empty room. It was a good thing they were tucked well away from where everybody was working on the ground floor. The scandal would be horrific if he were heard screaming and the two of them were found in this position. 

Reid hummed satisfaction into the back of his neck. “Amazing. Despite your supposed hatred for me you are so pliant under my hands. Not even a twitch of resistance.”

Humiliation washed through him, then even more shamefully came another wave of arousal at how humiliating this was. This was shameful - so, so deliciously shameful.

Once he was certain McCullum had adjusted fully to the intrusion Reid started to move, holding his hips up with both hands. His breathing was ragged; beastly even. It felt as if his claws were about to breach Geoffrey’s skin and sink into his hips, and the idea excited him. Christ, how much had his mind deteriorated over the years?

“Reid.” He whined. “Reid… R—”

“Please.” The doctor responded, his disturbing politeness somehow intact even in a situation such as this. “Call me Jonathan, my sweet child.”

“J—” His voice caught in his throat as the vampire drove into him all the way to the hilt. “Jonathan…”

“My darling Geoffrey.” 

He picked up the pace, and it was impossible for Geoffrey’s fragile mind to handle any more. His body quaked as his orgasm overtook him, and he soon fell completely limp. The floor was filthy under his cheek, and he could feel a drop of blood smearing against his ice-cold skin. He’d never felt so cold.

It didn’t take long for Reid’s hips to fall out of rhythm as he too lost his composure. Despite the state he was in, Geoffrey could still vaguely feel it as he twitched inside of him and defiled him only further.

“You need to rest now, sweetheart.” He cooed, stroking his hair back into place and turning him back over.

“F— Fuck you…” He managed to blurt out again.

Still, Jonathan chose to ignore his childish protesting. He carefully dressed him, scooped him up and carried him towards the elevator. 

And Geoffrey whined in confused agony as his body convulsed again.

And oh, the dreadful night.

-

He woke with a start, a sharp breath and a jolt. His blood was electric in his veins and his mind was racing. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to this.

“Good to see you’ve finally risen.”

Reid was sitting with an irritating politeness next to him, perched on a chair. Taking in his situation, McCullum realised that he’d stripped him down before tucking him into bed. The room was one he’d never been inside, but it was clearly Pembroke. Reid’s office?

“Is this your room?”

“But of course.” Reid petted his hair into place. “I couldn’t exactly dump you into one of out citizen beds, in the direct scrutiny of prying eyes. Consider your condition.”

“Indeed. The condition you have inflicted on me.”

Reid sighed heavily, his voice far too jovial. “Well, you can hardly blame me, can you? You were practically begging me to.”

“I wasn’t— Oh, you—” Geoffrey couldn’t even begin to get his words in order. “You leeches do this all the time, do you? Turning good men such as myself for your own perverted enjoyment. It’s so typical.”

“My perverted enjoyment, my dear Geoffrey?”

He gritted his teeth. If he had the mental constitution to do so he’d punch that smug look off of Reid’s face. Fucking leech.

“I—”

Reid pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t strain yourself, my darling progeny.”

He was enjoying every second of this, but shamefully enough a part of Geoffrey was too. He was supposed to hate the very thought of something like this. These wretched creatures tore his own family from him and yet indulging in this disturbing dynamic was awakening a dormant perversion within him that he couldn’t shake off.

“Fine.”

Jonathan raised his eyebrows at how quickly he gave in. “Really?”

“It’s not exactly as if I can do anything about this.” He admitted. “I suppose you win, as much as my blood boils to admit it.”

Clambering onto the cramped bed and cupping his face almost too tenderly, Jonathan caught his lips in a kiss that was more chaste and gentle than their first. His legs straddled Geoffrey’s hips and he hated how it excited him.

“If I have won, perhaps it is only appropriate that I claimed you as my prize.” He teased, watching the expression on the other’s face change. “You’re more of an open book that you realise.”

“Shut it.”

Since he’d first tasted Reid’s blood on his tongue his attraction to the leech had become almost unbearable. At least he could ignore it before. Now he was sitting hunched over him giving him gentle kisses on the lips like some kind of loving husband. This was sick and disturbed.

Then again, he was a leech now as well wasn’t he?

“Do you ever intend to say something to me that isn’t terribly vicious?” He tipped his head to the side, a teasing smile spreading across his lips. ‘Well, that is when I’m not buried inside of you.”

Geoffrey swung for him, frustrated and humiliated by his words. Jon saw this coming a mile away, probably reading his thoughts before he even moved. He dodged and caught the other’s wrist, which he pinned above his head.

“Careful, my darling boy.” He whispered into his ear. He didn’t use his mesmer this time, but he needn’t either. “There isn’t an awful lot of space on this bed, you know. You might fall off and hurt yourself.”

He addressed him as if he were a doting father, now. Was he doing it just to fuck with him? It was stirring him up in the most awful way. 

“Don’t talk to me like that.” He grunted, venom on his tongue.

“Why not?” Jonathan teased.

“Were you always this fucking annoying or does it have something to do with becoming a leech?” Geoffrey spat back.

Jon chuckled softly. “Oh, Geoffrey. Surely you can figure that out by observing your own behaviour?”

He really was insistent on being smug about this, wasn’t he?

Then as quickly as he’d clambered onto the bed, he was getting up off it. Confused and irritated by this inconsistent behaviour, Geoffrey rose with a fist clenched.

“You fucking perverted leech, come back here.”

“Come back and do what, exactly? Something perverted?” Jon shrugged, picking up his medical coat from a nearby coat rack. “No, I don’t think I will. I still have a patient I need to check in with before I turn in for the morning.”

He knew what he was doing. Of course he did. Not only did he know because it was obvious, but he could feel it rattling around in his skull. His vision was swimming with it. Jonathan was intoxicating his brain and corrupting him. His voice had this terrible wet echo and it settled deep inside his ears like syrup. This sensation was awful.

“Now, my dear progeny,” Jonathan’s voice was invading his mind almost as if he were speaking inside his skull. “You must behave yourself and keep on resting.”

And then he was gone, presumably off to groom his human patients into security like the cattle they were to him. Annoyingly, Geoffrey couldn’t think hateful thoughts about the doctor without feeling shame towards himself for being his creation. 

The rest of the night was rough.

-

His sleep was fitful, disturbed by nightmares from which Geoffrey awoke trembling and short of breath before spiralling back into a deep sleep out of exhaustion. When the sun finally dipped into the horizon and he’d rested enough to keep his eyes open he felt terrible. He also awoke to find himself restrained.

That bastard Reid had slipped leather straps onto his wrists and ankles as he slept, securing him in place on the bed like a drugged patient.

Wiggling his legs he heard the straps under him strain against the steel bed frame. He wondered if he’d be able to break these with ease if he’d gained his ekon strength yet. He was exhausted, for now. Exhausted and terribly  _ hungry. _

He knew that this was a hunger that could be sated in only one way and it made him feel sick in the pit of his stomach to think about.

The door swung open and Reid came into the room - it seemed he’d gone home for the day after restraining Geoffrey, to rest in his cozy West End mansion.

“Ah, you’re awake.” He said as if he were dealing with a sick child and not an unwilling progeny. “Terribly sorry about the restraints. In the night, you became quite scratch-happy. I was concerned that you might lay waste to my office with all that thrashing, darling.”

“If I had, you’d have deserved it  _ leech. _ ” He spat in response.

Jonathan smiled at him condescendingly. It was so slight and casual, it made Geoffrey’s heart sink. “Darling, you really ought to consider trimming your vocabulary to suit your new affliction.”

He ought to punch that smug little smile off the fucking ekon’s face. He tested the restraints again, pulling with his arms this time.

“You’ve yet to gain control of your strength yet, and you’ve yet to feed. There’s no use fighting your bonds right now. You’ll get nowhere, dear Geoffrey.”

To emphasise the difference in their physical strength he wrapped a clawed hand around McCullum’s throat. It was a quiet but potent threat. His grip was similar to how he’d held his face before - sharp and deadly but disturbingly careful.

Needless to say, he stopped wiggling around. 

“Very well. Not sure why you’d slay me after making me into one of your own - seems like a lot of effort for nothing. Still, I get the message.” He fell limp. He needed to conserve what little strength he had, just in case.

Jonathan pinched one of the restraint straps between his fingers. The other hand didn’t move an inch from where it was attached to Geoffrey’s neck. “I’ll happily release you, if you’ll behave.”

“I want my scarf back.” He blurted out, getting angry at the way Reid seemed to revel in treating him like a child or a pet.

Jonathan nodded, and slipped open the straps of his restraint cuffs one by one at a teasingly slow pace. Once Geoffrey was free, he rubbed at his wrists until the clammy sensation of the padded cuffs completely subsided. Crossing the room to his desk, Reid retrieved the hunter’s scarf and tossed it to him.

Catching it easily, Geoffrey looked down at the old thing. He’d had it for a long time, and it protected his neck well from the gnashing teeth of feral skals. No matter how scruffy it looked, he’d become quite attached to it over time and had been hesitant to replace it.

Jonathan’s back was still turned, so he figured now was as good a time as any to take his chance. He wrapped both ends of the scarf around his hands, pulled it taut and sprinted to where Reid was standing, looping the garment around his throat and pulling him into a hold.

The surgeon was startled - even an ekon needed to breathe. As the tautly wound scarf was drawn tightly across his neck his eyes widened and he panicked. Geoffrey made quick work, crossing his arms and pulling both ends as hard as he could muster. When pulled hard enough, even the soft tattered piece of material worked like a garrote wire. If he could do this right, he should be able to choke Reid unconscious.

However, despite his initial shock it only took a moment of gasping and croaking for Jonathan to react. He reached up and grabbed onto Geoffrey’s forearm with a clawed hand, sinking the sharp appendages into him easily.

Geoffrey growled in pain and his hands slipped out of the scarf as he instinctively moved to clutch his wounded arm. There were about four rips in his shirt, and through the holes he could see some ugly little cuts that were bleeding into the fabric. If he had fed his hunger then perhaps it would start healing right away. Instead, his cold undead blood drizzled miserably from the fresh wounds.

“F-Fuck…” He hissed. It didn’t hurt any less than he had anticipated; ekon or not, he hadn’t fed and so he didn’t have any kind of power to fall back on.

Freeing himself from the tangled scarf, Reid tutted at him. “Now, now. Didn’t I free you under the impression that you would behave? My progeny, you’re quite the  _ brat _ . You’ve gone and made me hurt your arm, and I really didn’t want to. I hope you understand.”

Geoffrey bit into his lower lip and glanced up at the stronger, healthier ekon in unabashed fear.

He kicked and fussed as Jonathan dragged him back to the bed in the corner of his office, but as he was losing some blood it was hard to maintain even human levels of strength. He’d already been weak, and this made it worse.

Then he was pinned to the bed with Dr. Reid sitting on top of him, and embarrassingly enough he couldn’t shake him off even a little bit. This position was worrisome. He was too exposed. Reid could tear his throat out if he wanted.

“Settle down. That little injury of yours won’t heal unless you let me feed you.” Reid calmly stated, reaching to a shelf next to his bed where a little cage of rats was perched. “I don’t like the idea of turning you loose while you’re still confused and hungry, since you don’t seem like you’d handle it well. I much prefer you  _ alive,  _ or at least alive as our kind can be.”

He got the distinct impression that whatever was about to happen would not be particularly enjoyable.

“I’d love to give you a full-sized meal but this will have to do for now I’m afraid.” He mused apologetically, a squirming rodent grasped in one hand. “Now, I’m going to need you to open your mouth for me.”

“If you think I’m going to eat a fucking rat you’ve got another thing coming, Reid.” He grunted in open disgust.

Jonathan shrugged. “If you’d like I can leave you here injured and starving. Of course you’ll eat the fucking rat, McCullum. You’re not an idiot.”

With both fingers he pinched into the sides of the young ekon’s mouth and coaxed his jaw open before shoving the struggling animal between his teeth.

The little thing was screaming and its little limbs were scrabbling around desperately to no avail. He could taste its fur on his tongue and it made him want to retch. Jonathan pushed the animal deeper into his mouth and he could feel his teeth scratching against its little body. His vision blurred for a moment and then he could see it - he could see the circulatory system of the rat through its skin. He could  _ hear  _ its panicked little heart beat. It was making him shamefully, horribly hungry. Those few drops of blood had hit his tongue and awakened his hunger from a dormant hum to a terrible deafening ruckus. Without wanting to, he felt his canines pull out into fangs. It was a peculiar sensation. They pierced into the poor little animal’s flesh and hot blood spilled onto his tongue.

Then his mind went partially blank and all he could think about was sustenance. His jaw practically moved on its own as he bit into the rat and drained the blood from its thrashing body. When he came to it was totally limp, and his sharp teeth were retreating from the wounds. He was overcome with a feeling of dirtiness. It felt as if his skin were trying to crawl off of his body. It felt terrible to prey on something in such a painful and vicious way, while it had no chance of escape.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it? See how you’re healing?” Jonathan continued with that fucking condescending tone, pointing down at McCullum’s arm where the wounds were already closing up. “Now, I’d really like it if you’d behave yourself this time. As much as you’d like not to believe it, I don’t actually  _ want  _ to hurt you.”

He scowled at the stronger, cockier ekon but then hesitantly nodded. If Reid had intended to harm him he wouldn’t have fed him, even if he’d gone about doing so in such a rude and domineering manner. If he didn’t want to be injured further he’d have to play along for now, at least until he was out of the hospital. 

Jonathan went back to that courteous upper class demeanour he normally showed to his patients. It was as if he cloaked himself in a ‘human suit’ and went about being nice to people he had no real concerns for. It was immensely creepy. He escorted McCullum out of the building as if he were a patient being discharged, walking him to the front door and even waving to him as he left. The rest of the hospital staff were not fazed - he’d been a patient here before after sustaining injuries out in the field. 

Then, in the quiet of London’s streets at night he started to hear it - the sound of a voice. It was the sound of  _ Reid’s voice.  _ It was an exact copy of Reid’s voice, urging and imploring him to  _ feed.  _ He didn’t want to. He of course didn’t.

And so he did the thing that would be only marginally less shameful and caught rats in a dark alleyway, biting into them one by one and dreading every second until he’d torn through at least four. He felt the urge to vomit at the predicament he was in, but reminded himself that it was better than preying on some poor sod who happened to pass him in the night. It was better than being a sick, evil little leech.

McCullum practically stomped his way back to the Priwen Guard’s headquarters, and when he got there he made a bee-line for his room and shut himself inside.


	2. emergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoffrey very nearly gives into his hunger, and pays a visit to Pembroke Hospital to try and achieve some kind of payback.

When he awoke to a muttering voice in the back of his head, it really dawned on him that this was going to be his life from now on. It was the voice of Reid again, telling him fervently to  _ go out, hunt, bite and claw and shred and drink.  _ It was overpoweringly loud, but coming from within his mind rather than anywhere outside. He groaned and grinded his palms into his eyes until he was able to shake it off. It really felt like it was blowing through his brain and echoing inside his skull.

After rolling out of bed and scrabbling to dress himself he hurried out, since he had somewhere to be.

Geoffrey had no clue how he was going to break the news to the Guard. He elected to keep it to himself for the time being, until he had figured out what to do with himself. For now he’d do his best to carry on as normal. If push came to shove he’d fake his death or something like that, but he’d really rather not be dishonest. These were people who relied on and trusted him.

He was meeting some new recruits today, to give them the usual welcome. It didn’t take long; he gave the pep talk he gave every round of new members nowadays. As much as he normally enjoyed having new recruits, they were coming in very often nowadays. On top of that, he was losing a lot of them to the increasing numbers of undead. When he welcomed new recruits it really felt like he was signing their death warrants already by having them in. His confidence wasn’t what it used to be. He’d never seen such an epidemic before.

Once he was done welcoming the new group of rookies into their new profession (and, unfortunately, the profession that would likely be their last), one of his men came over to him with one of the fresh-faced boys in tow. The young man looked quite nervous in disposition, his auburn hair long enough to tie back but not enough to look particularly feminine. His eyes were restless from behind his spectacles. He was somewhat more well-dressed than the other recruits, Geoffrey noticed. He couldn’t be older than the late twenties, at the very most.

“I wanted to give you two a chance to speak. Sir, this young man is Abraham Freudenstein. I’m sure you’ve heard the surname before; his parents have left quite the legacy in our line of work as you know.” The rugged hunter explained, introducing him like he actually couldn’t do it himself.

Geoffrey nodded and signalled for him to leave them alone. If he was truly the son of Gertrude and Alois Freudenstein then he’d want to get to know him personally.

The two of them were practically living legends amongst the Guard. Back in Germany they had hunted and taken down a long list of powerful leeches and word of their work had spread to adjacent countries’ vampire hunting communities. They both came from a long bloodline of devoted hunters, and on top of that they made very effective partners. Supposedly they’d moved to England for a quiet retirement, which would certainly explain this particular situation. 

“Is that true? You’re a Freudenstein?” He asked the rather overwhelmed looking young man.

He nodded timidly. “U-uh, Yes. Yes, sir I am.” The germanic flicker in his accent gave him away, too. “I received training from my mother, and I’m excited to be here. Really. It’s just…  _ Ach... _ ”

“Go on.”

He brought up a hand to his mouth and leaned in close, as if telling him a closely guarded secret. “It’s embarrassing to admit but I worry I’ll not fit in well because of my ethnicity; people are funny about Germans since this  _ dummer Mist  _ of a war started. I must admit I’ve not been socialising much with the English as of late. Always treating me as if I’m Deutsches Heer and they’re back in the trenches, the moment they hear me speak.”

That was an understandable worry. Many Germans who had immigrated to England long before the war were facing newfound tension with their neighbours lately. He didn’t doubt that returning veterans had given Abraham trouble recently, and that some veterans had recently joined up as well who might treat him poorly.

“Well, it might happen. I’ll admit that it might.” He explained, trying to manage his expectations while reassuring him he would be safe. “We’ll try to prevent it, though. In-fighting only gives the enemy an advantage.”

He nodded fervently, and his spectacles glinted in the light as he did. “Yes. I promise I’m ready - born ready - to slay those infernal beasts. Those nasty _dreckige_ _Blutegel_ will get what is coming to them. I promise this to you.”

“That’s the spirit, lad.” Geoffrey patted his shoulder warmly. 

Under any other circumstances, he’d be thrilled to have a Freudenstein in his ranks. Right now, though, it made him nervous. The boy seemed awkward, probably because he was still a rookie, but if he had truly learned to fight from his mother - and if the rumours about just how dogmatic the family were held any water - then he’d soon be dangerous considering Geoffrey’s new condition. The rest of the guard trusted him to the ends of the earth, but a Freudenstein would have no reason to trust anyone but themselves deep inside. Supposedly they were devoutly religious and held a hatred for leeches that ran deeper than even the most dedicated Priwen soldier. They passed it down through generations, and said generations always hunted.

Abraham was clumsy, and very green. He’d have to rely on that for now. Perhaps he could build trust with him and cement some kind of working relationship. He wasn’t sure whether he’d remain in the Guard for long, but whether he left or not he wanted Abraham to not be a thorn in his side.

“Thank you so much!” He beamed, before returning to the group. “Wir sehen uns später. I hear I will be patrolling alongside you.”

Was he  _ really  _ a Freudenstein? He seemed so timid and helpless, though his dedication to the cause certainly matched the profile.

-

There were a fair number of skals out and about tonight, and Geoffrey normally found that killing them was less of a fight anymore and more of a chore. For some reason, though, he was finding it difficult. 

Not physically, no. There was little difficult about putting down a skal, especially with the slightly enhanced speed and strength that came with vampirism. For a brief moment he wondered how much stronger he’d be after feeding on human blood, but he shook the idea from his mind.  _ He shook it out quickly. _

No, the difficulty he was facing was something else. A weird sense of hesitation.

As a particularly scrappy leech was knocked onto its back, kicking and thrashing in panic, he was looking at it down the length of his crossbow and the thought popped into his head.

_ He didn’t ask for this either. It’s kind of unfortunate. _

But it’s only for a moment and he quickly snaps out of it, killing the squirming leech with a well-aimed shot. Its bulging, dead little eyes drifted and its withering body seized and fell limp.

_ Since when did he hesitate for a damned skal? _

He turned to see that young Freudenstein was preoccupied fighting off several of them. He was doing quite well for somebody on his first day of the job. The short sword he carried wasn’t unwieldy for him; he handled it naturally, like he really knew how to use it. He skewered one of them in the chest with it and twisted the handle, and impressively enough the edges of the blade popped out on some kind of internal mechanism. The weapon turned into something more like a trident, ripping through the vampire’s torso as it did. As he drew it back it burst the creature’s chest open and left it dead in a heap of mangled flesh. The blade was likely imbued with something or other, because the wounds seemed to fester and sizzle upon contact with the air. Perhaps an orichalcum alloy of some sort?

Okay, so he  _ was  _ a Freudenstein. That was no ordinary weapon and he was no ordinary combatant. 

He rushed in to help, since he couldn’t exactly stand and watch. The two of them downed the other few skals with fairly similar levels of ease.

Despite his inexperience with the guard, he was nowhere near an inexperienced hunter. Perhaps he had a lot to learn about asserting himself, and about hunting tactics. Still, in a fight he was a valuable asset. A valuable asset for certain.

“Good work, Abraham.”

“Thank you sir, but if I’m honest skals are the only kind I feel fully comfortable fighting. I’ve slain many. As for other kinds, not so much.” He hurriedly muttered, and Geoffrey almost wished he wasn’t so humble.

Then he realised how much the fight had  _ exhausted  _ him.

It made sense. He hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday and even then he hadn’t fed in the way Jonathan would have wanted him to. No, he’d settled for rats. He imagined that was why only a few minutes of hard physical activity were causing the hunger to try and emerge within him. 

Geoffrey bent over for a moment and let out a few particularly ragged breaths.

“Are you alright, sir?” He felt Freudenstein’s timid hand cup his shoulder.

He anxiously glanced around. It was just him and Abraham, because the patrol had split up at a junction and agreed to regroup later. 

_ It would be easy. It would be incredibly easy. His guard was down, and Geoffrey could blame it on the skals. _

_ Tear him open, Geoffrey; tear open his throat and be nourished through the delightful nectar within. _

He looked up and couldn’t help but feel and see how his heart was still pounding from the adrenaline and effort of the fight. His blood was rushing, coursing through him and it smelled  _ delicious.  _ Then Jonathan’s whispering phantom voice was urging him to  _ bite. Feed. _

Without thinking, Geoffrey grabbed Abraham by the wrist and pulled him in close enough that he could tear his throat out in a split second if he wanted to.

The young man stumbled for a second, staring at him wide-eyed and red in the face with confusion. Whatever had overtaken Geoffrey he managed to hold it in, and when he opened his eyes again he realised he was gripping the poor man’s wrist far too tightly. His heart fluttered; Geoffrey could feel the pulse of it in his wrist even through his gloves, so amplified were his senses. His thoughts were far too loud.

“I-- Sorry.” He grunted, letting go and watching as Abraham rubbed at his arm through his gloves.

Had he seen something? Had he caught that glimmer in the eyes that an ekon normally had before striking - that look of unadulterated hunger?

His eyes were searching Geoffrey’s face but there was no glimmer of realisation.

“It’s alright.” He mumbled in response, his face still burning. “I- I didn’t expect it. I won’t tell anybody. I know you have a reputation to uphold.”

He was confused for a second until he realised what the German was getting at - had he mistaken that for some kind of unwanted romantic advance?

It seemed like he had, and he was looking up at Geoffrey with a certain coyness and uncertainty. He seemed lost for words, and more than a little bothered. However, he certainly didn’t look like he’d perceived any physical threat from the older man. He’d really believed that moment had been an innocent attempt at flirtation.

Yes, he had a lot to learn. The boy seemed borderline oblivious to the signs.

Geoffrey didn’t know if he ought to be relieved or chagrined by the lack of perception he had when it came to detecting an ekon. His claim about only being particularly good with skals hadn’t been exaggerated.

_ I can’t believe I almost preyed on one of my own recruits,  _ he thought to himself in disgust and shame. He would make Reid pay for this, and he was thinking of paying him a little visit to do exactly that.

But first he needed to sneak off to feed.  _ Rats. He’d really been reduced to eating fucking rats. _

-

He entered Pembroke Hospital much like he had when he came for Swansea - quickly and aggressively. Moving past nurses who were probably trying to figure out why he looked so familiar, he approached the front desk and immediately caught the attention of the older, exhausted-looking woman who was on duty.

“Sir, I do recognise you and I certainly hope you’re here for a peaceful reason this time.” She cleared her throat. “I’m Nurse Branagan. Can I help you, or are you here to suddenly arrest one of my esteemed colleagues again?”

She certainly had a sharp tongue. Geoffrey couldn’t help but respect her willingness to use it on somebody as intimidating as he knew he was.

“I’m just here to see Dr. Reid. I need to speak to him.”

She shook her head. “You’ll have to wait until he’s finished in surgery upstairs. You may wait here, but if you end up coming down with our head surgeon cuffed I  _ will  _ be taking it up with the local authorities.”

He nodded to her but proceeded to make his way towards the stairs. She looked like she wanted to chastise him for being so rude, but opted not to. 

Geoffrey stood in the hallway outside of the closed-off surgery room, leaned up against the wall and impatiently tapping his feet. Luckily he didn’t have to wait for that long because soon both Reid and Swansea were emerging from inside, pulling off the masks that covered half their faces.

“M-McCullum!” Swansea blurted out in unabashed fear. “You’re not here to harass me again, are you?”

It was certainly annoying to see that Swansea was alive - rather, unalive? Either way, there was no way he’d survived that beating he’d taken without Reid’s intervention. His eyes were slightly dirty in colour and it was clear that he was an ekon. What exactly had possessed Reid to give him exactly what he wanted, after he’d betrayed humanity? Was he that willing to disregard criminal behaviour? Swansea had caused far too much damage, and now he’d likely live to cause more.

“No, but I’ll probably want a word with you later.” He grunted in Edgar’s direction, before turning to Reid. “I’m here to speak to him.”

Swansea glanced between the two of them and evidently this reminded him of past events. “I hope I don’t need to remind you that this  _ is  _ neutral ground. You’ve broken my rules before, but I’m not willing to let it happen again.”

Jonathan put a hand up. “Don’t worry, Edgar. This is between us, and I assure you it will be civil.”

“Good.” 

Swansea hesitated for a moment before retiring to his office to get back to whatever else he needed to do. Probably had some patients to experiment on or some children to murder or something. He didn’t claim to know what the strange man got up to on these long nights.

“If you wouldn’t mind following me to my office.” Jonathan invited him, with that same veil of kindness he always wore around these halls.

“Fine.”

His hands were twitching as Reid led him into the office at the end of the hall - the room where he’d so cruelly kept him captive not long ago. The impatience of having to wait to exact his payback was excruciating.

Then Reid was finally closing the door behind him and asking him what the problem was, as if everything was completely fine between them and since there was nothing stopping him anymore McCullum snapped.

He grabbed the lapels of his surgical coat, gripping them hard and watching Jonathan’s eyes widen as he realised that his strength was coming back to him. He threw him against the wall and held him there for a moment. 

Reid gazed at him wide-eyed, probably expecting him to punch him or something like that. He really wanted to, but in the moment he could smell his blood rushing under his skin and other thoughts began to emerge. This sick little blood bond they had was a real annoyance. 

And almost without thinking he was then kissing him, but there was nothing romantic about it. He smashed his mouth against Reid’s with such force that the physician made a discomforted but muffled noise. Through his aggression and disregard for Jonathan’s enjoyment, Geoffrey made it clear this wasn’t supposed to please him, but was mortified to find that when he pulled back the blasted leech didn’t look upset in the slightest.

“You’ve changed your mind about wanting intimacy from me? And so soon.” He teased.

This only stoked the flame of his anger. “Shut your fucking mouth, Reid.”

But instead he shut him up himself by smashing his own mouth over it again, and he felt his fangs catch Jonathan’s tongue. Just a small amount of blood dribbled out and into Geoffrey’s mouth, but the taste was impossibly good. He almost pulled back and tore the ekon’s throat out to take the rest. It would have been well deserved.

“You have been eating the rats, haven’t you?” Jonathan mumbled against his lips between assaults. “You’re stronger - though you really ought to have a proper meal.”

He had specifically told him to shut up, so he wound his fingers into Jonathan’s hair and pulled his head back against the wall. The wall was solid inside, and his head hit the surface with a sickeningly low thud. That seemed to cut through his cockiness well enough as he winced at the feeling.

Geoffrey took advantage of the grip he’d already made on Jonathan’s hair and pulled him down to his knees harshly, finding that he didn’t resist whatsoever. It wasn’t clear if he was offering consent or simply obeying to avoid violence. Either way, it wasn’t the satisfactory reaction. He needed to be more brutal.

Fumbling his trousers open with one hand, he was pissed off to see how easily Jonathan acclimated to this dynamic. His mouth dropped open and he allowed Geoffrey to push it past his tongue, moaning like a  _ common whore  _ as it brushed against his throat. 

With a snarl of frustration, Geoffrey wound back a fist and mashed it into Jonathan’s nose. It wasn’t hard enough to break the cartilage but it certainly wasn’t a gentle strike as fresh blood began to pour out and onto his face. His eyes looked slightly out of focus, and Geoffrey took this opportunity to force the rest of it in. He audibly choked, but as he regained his bearings his eyes eventually gazed unashamedly up at the hunter as if he were begging for more.

It enraged him. He couldn’t fucking win. He couldn’t make Jonathan hurt like he’d hurt him.

Still, it was undeniably pleasant to fuck into his willing mouth. He bucked his hips hard, half-hoping to hurt his throat as much as possible. Perhaps he could make him sick. He wasn’t sure about how an ekon’s gag reflex functioned, and whether this was simply the way Jonathan’s body worked. Still, he’d do his damned best.

He was pushing so hard that he was applying more pressure to Jonathan’s nose, and more of his blood was pouring out. It was crying out to him. The desire to lean down and lick it from his face was overwhelming but that’s exactly what the fucking leech wanted him to do. That would only please him.

The build and crash of his orgasm happened very quickly, and Jonathan let out a surprised and frantic sound as he pressed all the way inside and coated his throat. Watching his eyes widen and his body shiver as his mouth and oesophagus were suddenly filled with seed entertained Geoffrey. The ekon looked uncomfortable. He’d made a small victory after all. Then he felt those fucking claws sink into his thighs and, as his orgasm still flowed through him it combined to create the strangest combination of feelings.

He hadn’t even noticed those claw-like hands wrapping around his legs but he certainly noticed the piercing sensation as the leech clung on seemingly for dear life. He hissed in pain but couldn’t escape the incredible rush that travelled up his spine.

He finally pulled out and Jonathan wiped at his lips with his fingers. It was nice to see him all dishevelled, his hair out of place and his eyes wet from having his throat brutalised. Another small victory.

Then he smiled at him. He smiled up at Geoffrey with a teary sheen in his eyes, blood still pouring freely from his nose. His teeth were fully out, sharp and terrible. His sclera had turned dark and the eyes were more cat-like with that tell-tale blood red tint that gave him away for the dragon he was.

He still found ways to look like he’d won, even when he sat slumped on his knees on the floor with blood dripping from his face.

Geoffrey couldn’t bear to look at him anymore, tucking himself back in and leaving the room. 

Jonathan’s voice could be heard vaguely behind him, chastising him playfully for entering and leaving places with such a lack of manners.

-

He’d carved up his thighs to pressure him into feeding. There was no other explanation. When he’d first entered Pembroke he’d already been somewhat starved thanks to his strict diet of rodents and it wasn’t enough to close up the wounds anymore. 

_ Whilst he may have won in small ways, Jonathan was still winning the war. _

The flesh was binding together too slowly. His insides were twisting and itching for sustenance like a writhing snake. He yearned so strongly for blood, and it took all the willpower he had to will that away.

Every time, Jonathan goaded him and teased him, seducing him in his own sick little way into abandoning his principles to turn him into a real leech. He wanted so badly to make Geoffrey experience the full extent of vampirism - every shameful bit of it. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Then came that voice again, that mouthpiece of his own desperate hunger that sounded so exactly like Jonathan. It urged him to  _ rip and slash and tear into flesh, indulge in the sweet wine of life, the delicious nectar of hot thriving mortality. _

He scowled and slapped at his own head as if he were trying to knock the voice out through his ear. It was unbearable. Jonathan purred from inside the confines of his subconscious, begging Geoffrey to  _ go, go out into the night and hunt. Slip into that lithe little recruits room and have your way with him. Drain the life from his body. Take from him what you know you would so strongly like to. Stake your claim. _

Was this really what it was like, all the time? Was this the persistent psychotic torment that had turned Reid into such a beast?

His frenzy was building up in his bloodstream and it felt as if his individual blood cells were screaming and thrashing through his veins. 

A feral skal was digging through garbage not far away and Geoffrey didn’t bother holding back. He snuck up behind it and clawed open its throat, and after getting a good grip on its shoulders he sank his teeth into the fresh wound and feasted. 

It was better than the rats. So, so much better. It felt like it was really filling him, his entire body heating up and tingling all over. The taste was strange - not as impossibly sweet as Jonathan’s blood but slightly tangy instead. His entire body trembled with the disgusting pleasure of being finally fed. The feeling was almost comparable to sexual satisfaction, but it was undeniably deeper and more fulfilling than that - it satisfied him to such a degree he’d never thought anything would.

The creature fell limp onto the ground and Geoffrey felt the shame sink in. Even the rats had made him feel terrible, and this was bigger than that.

_ Still, _ he told himself, _ it’s only a skal, right? _

It didn’t feel good to consume something that was once human, but it wasn’t human anymore. He told himself that repeatedly until his breathing steadied again. Feeding on another immortal wasn’t as terrible and evil as feeding on an innocent citizen who had no chance at defending itself, was it? It was a fairer fight. The skal was likely not innocent, either. It had probably inflicted injuries on his own men before - that’s what he told himself.

He took the rest of the walk back to headquarters, his entire body alive with newfound strength and vigor. When he sank into his bed, glancing out from between his dark curtains to see the sky turning a few shades brighter, he actually got to sleep much easier too.


	3. burgeon forth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But you’ll come home to me eventually, my dear child. I know you will. When you do, I will always have space for you.”

It was time that Geoffrey took responsibility.

The past few evenings had been dominated almost entirely by the growing pains of his transformation but he couldn’t afford to sit and soak in it all day. No, he still needed to decide what to do about the Guard. He was a vampire hunter long before he was turned, and he intended to perform the last of his duties in full because he still believed deep within his heart and soul that he was in spite of his condition.

For now, he only spoke of his own resignation to the most senior members that he could trust to keep it quiet. The idea was that once he had found somebody to name his successor he would be able to resign quietly. His excuse was simply that his health was getting worse, and he’d worn himself out hunting for so long. He told a little white lie about the injuries he had sustained when clashing swords with Reid, and how they were taking their toll on him and how he wasn’t getting any younger. Nobody had any reason to argue with him for now; those that had been called to the meeting all understood that he had served the guard for a long time and done more than his fair share of work. It wasn’t hard for them to believe that late into his thirties he might be exhausted. Thanks to his new condition he also looked the part; sickly pale and far less lively.

He’d stick around until his successor was selected, and eventually sworn in to the role. Disappearing would be too suspicious, so soon after his encounter with the powerful ekon at the Pembroke Hospital. Guardsmen would soon catch on. He’d taught many of them himself, and knew how perceptive they could be. 

On the way out, the Chaplains and senior hunters patted him affectionately on the shoulder. He could tell they were beginning to miss him already and the guilt started to settle deep once he was alone. Whilst he knew this was necessary and that he had no real choice, it still hurt to have to leave. In a way, he was losing everything. Reid had taken his entire livelihood away in one spur of the moment decision.

A walk was normally enough to clear his head, but sadly it wasn’t so effective this time with the muttering voice of Jonathan in his head still trying aggressively to convince him to bite out Abraham’s throat and his numerous stresses being particularly stubborn as of late. On top of everything he was overcome with these annoyingly conflicting emotions about the Guard itself. His own comrades in arms, his own family even, had become an undeniable threat to his life and he had become the very thing he’d intended to destroy. 

He went digging in his pocket for a cigarette but then remembered. Ah, of course. Smoking used to be an easy comfort for him but he wasn’t sure yet if he could still do it. He’d seen how vampires responded to smoke externally. They were extremely sensitive in terms of sensory responses. Chances were he couldn’t endure the taste anymore. Still, he was miserable and it was worth a try to see if there was anything he could do to cope.

He shielded the tip from the wind and heard it crackle as it finally took to the flame. Then after only one inhale he felt slightly nauseous. The hot, bitter taste of tobacco flooded his mouth and as it reached the back of his throat he realised he’d made an awful mistake. Immediately he found himself coughing and his eyes watering. It felt like he was a teenager trying one for the first time and inhaling just a bit too quickly, but worse. 

The taste was far too overpowering for him now. It was an assault on his tongue and in his throat. He wiped his eyes and threw the stupid thing into a puddle. He hadn’t even finished one inhale so it had all been futile.

Was there anything he would be able to still enjoy, or would Reid take  _ everything _ from him? If he was trying to make Geoffrey understand that being an immortal wasn’t any fun then his point had been aptly made. A sinking feeling settled in McCullum’s gut as he realised he’d probably made a grave mistake in telling him he could never change his mind. In the moment he’d wanted only to remain brave and not back down from his morals, but the end result was that he’d poked the hornet’s nest and brought this blasted curse on himself. He was beginning to wonder if he was his own worst enemy for that. Then, he quickly shook off that notion. It was Reid who was his enemy. Reid was responsible for this, not him. Despite his efforts to clear his head he’d only found himself even more lost in thought.

His internal monologue was interrupted by the distinctly grim braying and screeching of a feral vulkod from not that far away, and he embraced the distraction for now. At least he could continue to do his job and not think too much about all the confusing things happening to him. Hunting still worked as far as coping was concerned. Even if he couldn’t smoke or drink anymore without coughing up his lungs and stomach, he could still blow off steam cleaving through feral undead. That was something Jonathan could never take from him; the thrill of the hunt.

As he rounded the corner he heard another inhuman scream and arrived just in time to see the large beast bare its fangs and launch itself at a man who appeared to be Abraham. 

Geoffrey had almost forgotten about today’s patrols.  _ Christ alive, how out of sorts had he been? He was never this sloppy or behind.  _ Abraham was meant to be patrolling with a group, not fighting on his own.  _ Had he split off from his patrol?  _ Geoffrey’s question was answered quickly as he took in his surroundings and noted the corpses of a few men who were dressed in typical Priwen garb - thick scarves, hand wraps and weapons either still in hand or close by. They had been torn apart by something; likely the beast and its skal companions who were still picking and gnawing at the gnarled and beaten bodies.

Freudenstein was the only one left standing.

A few of the skals were hissing and scraping about in the dark looking to pounce, deterred only by the vulkod’s brutality. They weren’t stupid enough to risk getting torn apart, it seemed. Geoffrey raised his arm and took down several of them with his crossbow, not yet needing his sword. Then he finally took the blade from its holster, readying himself to come to Abraham’s aid.

Ducking its awful jaws, the young man produced a smooth, finely-carved stake from under his old cloak and slammed it into the chest of the snarling creature. It howled in pain and he used the opening to slice at its front limbs with his sword. 

Geoffrey couldn’t help but be astonished by the sight. He had claimed that since his knowledge was only limited he was only any good against skals, but the boy was a natural. It was clear in the way he moved. Whether he was familiar with this species or not made no difference since his fundamentals were so solid. Somebody was hunched over on the pavement nearby - it was difficult to tell, but likely a citizen the patrolmen had swept in to protect. He could still see the motion of the figure breathing but was too distracted to look too closely.  _ A weak pulse,  _ he noted to himself,  _ physically weak and breathing unevenly. Unlikely to die but not exactly in good shape. _

Abraham pulled it out and immediately staked it again, harder this time with a grunt of effort, and the vulkod fell onto its back. It wasn’t dead yet, still twitching but ultimately helpless. It bled and flinched and let out weak wheezing breaths. Its arms hung at its side, useless thanks to the flurry of vicious swings he’d brought upon them.

He turned to one of the skals who had been emboldened by the felling of the vulkod and switched his attention. McCullum opted to help kill off the rest of the stragglers, since he was already here. There was no reason to keep standing here staring.

It was ekons that were the boy’s problem, wasn’t it? Why in particular was he so ignorant to the wiles of ekons? Perhaps he could only truly focus in the heat of battle and was otherwise held back by something. There was something peculiar about the way his mind worked, as if a switch was flipped in the presence of a violent threat and he became somebody else entirely. He’d never met a Freudenstein before, but perhaps this was why they were such formidable hunters - that ability to switch it on and off.

But really, Geoffrey shouldn’t spend too long thinking about the new recruits. He wouldn’t be knowing them for long. It was too much for him to take on right now. It couldn’t be helped; he enjoyed his job immensely.

“Thank you very much for the assistance sir.” He bowed his head to McCullum, a show of manners that made him seem quite old-fashioned for such a young man. “I’ve never fought one of these before and feared that those skals might interfere and get me hurt.”

McCullum narrowed his gaze at the boy. “You certainly didn’t look like you were having any difficulty. You’re a natural. Are you only being humble? If so, you really don’t need to be like that with me. I know where you came from.”

Abraham stood silently, looking as if he were arguing with himself inside his own head.

It only took a quick glance for Geoffrey to realise whom it was hunched over on the ground. The smell alone was distinguishable. Now that the other immortals had been slain and he was no longer distracted by the fight, it was all he could smell. All he could smell was Jonathan.

“Well I’ll be… Abraham, I know this toff. I’ll take care of him.” Geoffrey waved a hand at the confused looking young man. “Get back to headquarters. You’re shaking like a fucking leaf.”

Although he wasn’t shaking from fear of the beast. Nor was he afraid of Jonathan since he hadn’t even given the man a second look. No, he hadn’t been afraid of it whatsoever. He looked more like he was perturbed by something Geoffrey may have said. He’d started to look confused and afraid once Geoffrey was done speaking. What had he said to set the boy off, exactly? He was odd, for sure.

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll go check in, and maybe join another patrol. I’m really not so shaken that I can’t continue working.” He muttered, and he hesitated before he left but ultimately allowed Geoffrey some alone time with his maker.

Geoffrey had known what Reid was the moment they had met. A good hunter could always tell and the young man was clearly a good hunter. What was Abraham’s problem?

“So, if you’re such a powerful dragon then why do you need rescuing from the Guard? Surely a feral vulkod shouldn’t be hard work for you.” He taunted, slowly walking to where the badly wounded vulkod squirmed on the ground. 

It jerked and kicked and whined as the orichalcum in its open wounds seared and festered inside with a terrible crackling sound. That sword really was a brutal device. For a moment he flinched at the idea of being cleaved by something like that. He couldn’t help but empathise with the beast's plight, in spite of everything, as he watched it writhe in agony. For a moment he remembered how he’d used orichalcum against Jonathan before, and several different feelings he couldn’t possibly describe rose up in his chest. He didn’t want to watch it suffer anymore.

Geoffrey grabbed it by the shoulder, lifted it close to his face against the resistance of its weight and sank in his teeth to feed. He’d gotten used to doing this now; only feeding on other immortals and only if he truly needed it. It didn’t feel so disgusting anymore. Well, nothing felt as cruel or grim as eating rats had. He would never go back to that, he’d decided. This was better. There was something of a fair fight involved.

It wriggled around a bit more as he drained what was left of its blood, but ultimately it seemed to have accepted its fate. He was putting the creature out of its misery, if those injuries were anywhere near as painful as they looked. He was doing the right thing, not only for humanity but for the vulkod as well.

Jonathan watched quietly, but for the sound of his ragged breaths. He could barely move from his hunched, pathetic position.

He dropped its corpse at its feet and it struggled no more, its eyes glossy as they reflected licks of moonlight.

Geoffrey turned to look at his maker, who now had straightened up at least partially. The ekon was bleeding into his own hands from his abdomen and looked disoriented. Licking some of the still-hot blood from his lips he could not contain his delight at the sight of him suffering. It excited him to see him bleed, not only for his involuntary lust to taste it but for his personal resentment as well.

“You’re wounded and not recovering? Have you not fed, after all the efforts you’ve gone to to force me to do so? It’s not a moral problem for you, to prey on the innocent. You’ve no reason to be so pitiful.” He jeered.

Jonathan gasped in a large lungful of air and looked up at his progeny pitifully. “Geoffrey darling I… I admit, I’ve been busy. You’re hard work, and so is the hospital. And, well, so is this awful epidemic.”

“It’s not been easy for me, either.” Geoffrey spat out, refusing to take any pity for the ekon’s plight after he’d caused him so much pain. “Still, it wasn’t me who caused that. Your problems are mostly your own fault for being a selfish no-good leech. You’re letting Swansea off with a slap on the wrist, and you expect my pity?”

But Reid was still gazing up at him like an ill puppy, and he didn’t like the feelings it brought up in him. It wasn’t that he felt sorry for him, he just couldn’t fight the part of him that wanted to care for him. He  _ did  _ want to care for him, but also to consume him… and to be consumed by him. Their bond was calling out to him, urging him to save Jonathan and bare to him his throat like the good, loyal progeny he ought to be. Not ought to be, no. Definitely not. Not in a million years, even if it came to that.

“I could feed you, you know that Reid? I just drank plenty from that vulkod that my young comrade slew.” His voice lilted as he enjoyed the power he had over his own creator. “Of course, I’d need you to  _ behave yourself.” _

Jonathan didn’t seem too resistant to have the tables turned on him. In fact, he seemed grateful. Without any real struggle he allowed Geoffrey to seize power over him in this situation. “My child… I would certainly appreciate it.”

Suddenly reminded of what had happened at Pembroke when he’d come to visit, Geoffrey hesitated. He wasn’t sure how the physician might trick him into a false sense of safety before doing something underhanded to make him suffer. Still, his blood was throwing a riot inside him, calling out for Jonathan and he couldn’t shut it up.

He loosened his scarf and pulled the knot open, bringing out an interesting reaction from Jonathan.

“From the wrist would be sufficient.” He suddenly blurted out. 

Geoffrey knew that of course; logically speaking he should only bare his wrist. He ought not to want such an intimate blood rite but he did anyway. His insides squirmed and his blood vessels swelled with desire for his maker. He couldn’t muster the mental strength to fight it right now in the name of decorum.

The hunter dropped to his knees before his sire, turning his head to show him his bare trapezoid. His finger rose to pierce his own flesh with one claw, a rivulet of blood rising from the small wound and pooling in the pit of his collarbone. Jonathan was so terribly weak that he crawled along the ground to reach him, grabbing at his badly battered clothing with bloody fingers.

His lips pressed to Geoffrey’s flesh so meekly that he felt blood rise to his face at the surprisingly gentle touch. The ekon suckled from his shoulder and eventually pierced him with sharp teeth to draw further blood. Geoffrey couldn’t help but feel a twitch in his underwear at the feeling of being consumed by his maker. A breathy moan escaped from Reid’s lips, muffled by Geoffrey but rippling through his body in a wave of arousal.

It was odd to see him so submissive. It excited him. 

His lips moved so gently and politely against Geoffrey’s skin and he let out soft sounds of polite enrapturement. Those fingers tangled in his coat remained attached in a vice-like grip and the drip from his wounds slowed to a total stop as those horrible gashes in his abdomen started to close.

Jonathan needed him, probably as much as he needed him in return. It was hard to know what to think of that.

His teeth sank in again, this time much deeper and Geoffrey groaned as the sharp, wet pain made his head spin with the strangest feeling of fulfilment. He could feel his heart pounding as he found himself pulling Jonathan’s hands from his coat, instead wrapping his arms around his body and lifting him with very little effort. He straightened his legs, hoisting him up into the air. The wall behind Reid would suffice. He pinned him there, crushing him against it with his own weight and forcing his face into his shoulder even more. For a moment they both struggled to find a more pleasurable position, distracted by the decadence of their blood rite. Eventually Geoffrey managed to wiggle his hip into place against Jonathan’s groin where he found that he certainly was equally excited. Jonathan rutted against him unapologetically, mindlessly as if in a trance.

He was finally fully healed, his teeth coming loose from Geoffrey’s shoulder and his frantic breathing turning into a helpless moan as his progeny grabbed his thighs and lifted him. His legs dangled helplessly as Geoffrey grinded his erection against him directly. 

The noises he made were becoming less coherent as he was noticeably blood-drunk and McCullum was certainly glad that nobody was around to witness this.

“Geoffrey darling, my child--” 

He wished that the way Jonathan addressed him didn’t resonate the way it did. He wished he could simply hate it but it was growing on him as their bond strengthened. Geoffrey didn’t like to be helpless to anything, much less his own primal urges. It inched him further from his illusion of humanity, and nothing was worse than spoiling such a precious illusion.

If this was what it was like to live with the curse of immortality, he might find himself feeling pity for even the most rabid of vampires.

Then Jonathan was clinging to him again, arms wrapped around his neck and his face buried into his coat as he whined and his hips chased the feeling of Geoffrey’s heat against him. 

Reid blew his load into his underwear like a teenager, clinging and clawing. His hips stuttered and jerked as it happened and at first it wasn’t clear  _ what _ had happened. Then McCullum smelled it through his clothing, and noticed how he softened up immediately after. It was incredible to see him reduced to such a state. It seemed to be a direct result of ingesting Geoffrey’s blood, perhaps a result of their bond rather than an innate side effect of drinking from ekons. Either way, it brought Geoffrey immense amusement and he intended to get mileage out of it.

“Jonathan.” He muttered, close to the surgeon’s ear to ensure he heard it. “You’ve soiled yourself.”

His maker smiled and pressed his mouth to Geoffrey’s ear in return. “You’re getting so strong and reliable, my darling. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.”

And his hand was feeling at the front of Geoffrey’s trousers and palming him through the layers of fabric and it was hard  _ not  _ to kiss him back when he claimed his mouth. It was hard not to inhale sharply and deepen the kiss when that cold hand worked his button open and slipped inside to hastily take him the rest of the way. He was too caught up in the enjoyment of everything to think about his doubts or his worries, and in the end this was exactly what he had needed to take his mind off things in a sickly strange way. His cock twitched and he breathed out a long, deep sigh through his nose as he felt his muscles seize and contract. 

Once he had finished in Jonathan’s hand, moaning against his open mouth, Geoffreygathered himself back up and walked with him back to the front door of his West End home in total silence. Though the ekon was quick to offer his progeny a spot on his bed when the sun began to rise, Geoffrey declined his offer strongly. The guilt and shame and disgust had started to settle in at this point and he didn’t want to tempt himself. He’d already allowed himself to sink low tonight, and whilst he was starting to realise the futility of clinging onto his humanity he still felt an innate desire to try. For now he wanted to go with his gut. It hadn’t failed him yet.

He didn’t enjoy the idea of being a perverted leech who got a sexual thrill out of blood drinking. It was frankly the opposite of what he wanted. He didn’t want to get off on biting, nor did he want to get off on being bitten. 

“I understand. You’ve a lot to do tonight.” Jonathan stated, filling in the gaps for him before he could say anything else. “But you’ll come home to me eventually, my dear child. I know you will. When you do, I will always have space for you.”

That really pissed him off. Still, he tried to maintain his composure this time. Geoffrey turned away, swore to himself under his breath and made his way back to Priwen headquarters.

The journey back was relatively quiet - he ran into the odd skal but they were quick and easy work. As he strode into headquarters, though, he was surprised to find Abraham again sitting all by himself. The boy was hunched over, and seemed to be sobbing. 

Geoffrey was just gearing up to ask him what was wrong when the young hunter stood up and ran off, not keen on talking about it probably. There was no need to pry. For now, he needed to get back to his personal quarters before sunrise.


	4. blossoming

Geoffrey’s decision to choose the old theatre as his new base of operations certainly was a relief for Jonathan, as he needn’t waste his time searching for a way inside. He took the same route to the rear facing balcony of the building, warping via shadow magic in order to access the door. 

The top floor was not even particularly busy. Most members of the Guard had already left on patrol it seemed, and as things got more and more tense in London there were much less of them left behind as they all worked overtime to fight the skal spread.

He knew that his beloved progeny was somewhere on this floor, and he quickly got to searching.

As he rounded a corner he suddenly collided with a young man with fiery hair, and if it weren’t for the patches and stitches littering his cape and trousers he could have blended in with any wealthy resident of the West End. Well, so long as you didn’t look at him long enough to notice the slight scruff of stubble on his face and his fairly strong build, betraying his butch and labour intensive profession.

The young man gazed up at him alarmed, and for a moment he thought he would need to make a hasty retreat. Then his face softened up and he spoke, accent thickly laden with germanic layers.

“You, why are you here? Wait--”

He stared into his face and scanned him up and down with an exaggeratedly analytic facial expression drawn into his brow. Jonathan felt his deadened heart jolt in his ribcage as he readied himself to be attacked.

“I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

So, the boy wasn’t very observant.

“Yes. I think it was you who rescued me from that creature, along with your employer Mr. McCullum. I can’t thank you enough.” He bowed his head, as formally as any gentleman would. “I’m here to meet with McCullum, you see - I’m a physician employed at the Pembroke Hospital and I’m seeing a lot of people in the area for check-ups. Not everyone can make the trip to and from the hospital in these times.”

“Of course. He needs to watch his health, because he works so hard.” The young man nodded. “My name is Abraham Freudenstein, of the Freudenstein vampire hunting lineage. It was my pleasure to save a good gentleman like you from the terrible Blutegel, sir. It was the correct thing to do. I’d hate to keep you - I won’t get in your way.”

He continued through the corridor until he was out of Jonathan’s sight. It was most peculiar that he came from a lineage of vampire hunters but could not spot the subtle signs of his condition as Geoffrey had always been able to. Perhaps it was down to some kind of condition. He had heard there were disorders and conditions that rendered individuals unable to read certain features - in fact, he’d read documented cases of people who could not even perceive different facial features - so it wasn’t impossible that this could be a psychological or neurological issue.

Regardless, he set his curiosity aside and continued on his way to find his newborn.

When he arrived at the only door on this floor that had a lock, he realised he must be at the right place. He knocked politely, and as the door slowly drew back and he saw Geoffrey through the crack he felt relief wash over him.

“What are  _ you _ doing here?”

Jonathan smiled gently. “I owe you immensely, and I’d like to speak with you if that’s alright.”

A look of careful calculation twitched onto his face for a moment but he reluctantly allowed Jonathan inside. No matter how badly he wanted to be bitter and petty, he eventually caved to his maker’s desires. Even if he didn’t know it yet, he was under Jonathan’s spell. It just so happened that Jon enjoyed the chase enough to let him believe otherwise.

As Geoffrey closed them in together and they were fully alone, Jonathan began. “You allowed me to feed on your blood. That can’t have been an easy thing for you to do, considering your convictions. I wanted to see you, to thank you properly.”

He was stepping closer, and though the tone of his voice was carefully friendly he didn’t intend to give Geoffrey any power in this situation. No, he was simply waiting for his incredibly intense guard to loosen up. His muscles were tense.

“I don’t want anything from you. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” Geoffrey replied, his face curling as he sneered at his maker. “All you do is piss me off and drag me into your perverted little games.”

Jonathan was infuriated with his disobedience. He needed to punish his lack of respect for the man that had sired him and gifted him with the power he now took advantage of nightly in his hunts. He needed to be encouraged to take the path to greatness, rather than hesitating and catastrophizing over humanity. If Jonathan was able to get over that, perhaps Geoffrey could too.

He grabbed him by the coat and shoved him against the exterior wall. Geoffrey let out a wince as his body hit solid brick; though he was more resistant to injury now, pain was pain.

“I’m trying to reward you for serving me, my dear  _ child.”  _ He growled close to Geoffrey’s ear, half annoyed by his behaviour but half excited by how the young ekon’s pulse started to accelerate involuntarily. “Accept my gratitude like a good boy.”

There was very little physical resistance to speak of. Geoffrey allowed himself to be pressed against the wall and just stared back at Jonathan wide-eyed like a frightened animal for a moment. He hadn’t even tried to mesmerise him. The hunter was responding to his words easily. Though he wasn’t enthusiastic about being manhandled, he didn’t seem all that angered by it. Jonathan’s face hovered in front of his, and it seemed like he was calculating his situation carefully. That, or he was arguing with himself in his head. Then he closed the gap between them.

Whilst he was always anticipating this encounter to get physical at some point, he hadn’t expected it to be Geoffrey who made the first move. He let out a surprised sound into the nemrod’s mouth, before quickly leaning into the clumsy kiss. Tongues slid over each other frantically and suddenly Geoffrey was more than happy to accept Jonathan’s reward. His resistance was wearing down quickly.

“Good.” He muttered against McCullum’s mouth. “This is going to be very pleasant, I assure you.”

His hips shunted forward until he found a good angle to slot them against Geoffrey’s, and he found him only half-hard. Still, after a while of grinding and groping and feverishly kissing each other he was quickly filling out the front of his trousers; Jonathan was, as well.

He led Geoffrey away from the wall and laid him down flat on his bed, briefly chuckling to himself at how messy and unmade it was. Crawling onto his lap, he wrapped a hand around his throat firmly and grinded his hips down again. It seemed Geoffrey was quickly catching on to what he was offering, because his hands chased after his rolling hips to thrust up into him.

Jonathan cracked a smile, shivering a little bit at the sensation of being in such a position with the hunter. He’d wanted this for a long time, and after all of his hard work in bonding with his new progeny he was finally willing enough to give it to him.

Oh, he really adored this one. 

He let go of Geoffrey’s throat to free up his hands for undressing himself. His progeny watched keenly as he tossed his coat aside then promptly loosened and removed his necktie. His wandering hands found their way to the physician’s waist, watching his hips roll back and forth in his lap while he worked off his waistcoat and shirt. 

When he tugged at Geoffrey’s scarf, he was testing the waters. It wasn’t clear if Geoffrey wanted to fully undress, and perhaps he would rather not expose his flesh to a vampire such as Jonathan even now that he had been turned. It was better to give him the illusion of choice. That way he was less likely to resist.

Geoffrey stared up at him for a moment, eyes glazed over with lust but still not quite landing in any place of certainty. He shook his head.

It seemed he was still trying to assert control in small ways. So be it. If anything, the more he undressed the more exciting it was to see Geoffrey fully clothed. This little power dynamic was a lot more fun when the lines were blurred. Even moreso, it excited him to move goal posts and keep his darling little pet on his toes.

He was down to his undergarments soon enough, and he made a show of throwing the underwear over his shoulder. Then he got to work freeing his progeny from within his own clothes, watching his cock bounce free and taking in the sight of it for a while. He hadn’t gotten a good enough look at it so far since every encounter they’d had so far had been so rushed and awkward.

It seemed that Geoffrey didn’t know what to do with himself, glancing around in a panic as he likely realised that they’d need some form of lubrication to continue. Jon pinned his wrists above his head and relieved him of such a responsibility, biting into his own hand and letting fresh blood dribble out onto his fingers.

The hunter’s eyes widened at the sight, a combination of surprise at what he was seeing and that slight flicker of bloodlust that he couldn’t contain at the scent of his maker’s blood. He flinched and squirmed as Jonathan slid his hand over his length, coating him with his own sweet nectar and exciting him further. Sharp teeth started to peek out from behind Geoffrey’s lips as his mouth dropped open and he let out a long sigh. 

He could feel and hear his little heart racing in tandem with Jonathan’s own as the doctor sank into his lap slowly. It was a tight fit without prior preparation. Still, he figured this was only fair; their first time he hadn’t given Geoffrey the easiest or most comfortable experience.

There was also the small, unimportant fact that the pain thrilled him, of course. That was only a coincidence.

Geoffrey’s facial expression seemed to sway back and forth between raging arousal and inner conflict. He was a most entertaining toy, and watching his body and mind bend and break was a fine distraction from the stress of Reid’s daily responsibilities. He started out with a steady but slow rhythm, rocking his hips and riding him. 

The scent of Jonathan’s blood built up a frenzy in Geoffrey, and soon he was ramming his hips upward with as much strength as he could muster. It caught him by surprise at first, but surprise soon gave way to thrill.

He was perfectly forceful, and despite how much he enjoyed being in control Jonathan couldn’t help but melt into the sensation of the frenzied ekon’s erratic movement.

Despite his previous resistance, it was getting easier to bring out this side of him. Better yet, he could see, even feel the strength that coursed through his new progeny and how it was surging with every night that passed. Though he fought and fought against his fate he couldn’t prevent it. He was certain that at this point Geoffrey must be astutely aware of that.

The sharp bite of clawed fingers drew his attention to where his grip on Geoffrey’s wrists had faltered, though he wasn’t scared for his safety. Instead he allowed him this small freedom, letting him sink those sharp points into his hips to draw more blood and bury his face into the crook of his neck as he finally approached his climax. Heat wormed its way through him in fervent spurts and he felt the muscles in his dear Geoffrey’s body tense and strain.

Those terrible claws didn’t dare retract from his flesh until the last tremors of McCullum’s orgasm had subsided.

Though he was still panting, short of breath and dizzy with aftershocks, Jonathan made a relatively quick recovery. As soon as he was able, he seized the nemrod by the wrists again.

“Now, aren’t you thankful that I dropped by to reward you for your loyalty?”

His progeny only glared back at him, eyes still hazy with blood lust. He lazily stuck out his tongue to lick from his fingers the blood that he’d gathered from Jonathan’s now sore hips. The wounds were closing at their own leisurely pace and Geoffrey was still hesitating to say anything to his maker.

Seizing his wrists again and squeezing - a gentle threat - he tried again.

“Aren’t you thankful, darling?” 

For a moment Geoffrey bared his teeth at him defensively, but he was a little worn out from their tryst and didn’t have the energy to put on a convincing act. Instead, his lips settled back into place and he coyly nodded.

“Th-Thank you.”

It was clear by the look on his face that he felt strange saying it, much moreso to a man like Jonathan.

“You’re a sick  _ bastard _ , you know that Reid?” He frowned. “Is that a new feature courtesy of your condition or were you always such a  _ bastard _ ?”

He was sulking again. The young ekon had a tendency to do that, as he had a particular talent for fighting with his own mind. 

“You’re frightfully coy, aren’t you? I assure you that once you’ve accepted your reality - both physically and emotionally - this will become a lot easier.”

He looked up at Jonathan like he’d just presented him with three riddles.

This conversation was unsalvageable. Besides, he imagined his progeny would benefit from some time alone to rest and clear his head. Jonathan gathered up his clothing and dressed himself carefully, taking extra care to look neat as he had when he first arrived. He took his leave from Geoffrey’s window, politely bidding goodbye as he went.

-

Swansea was already waiting patiently for his maker back at Pembroke when he eventually returned. He was evidently listening out for his arrival because as soon as he crossed the threshold into the hospital administrator was descending the stairs with light but urgent steps.

“Can we talk in my office for a moment?”

Since he’d been turned Swansea had become even harder to read.

“Very well.”

In the safe solitude of the spacious room where the newly turned surgeon spent his nights experimenting himself, he approached Jonathan with an expression that was somehow more unreadable than the last.

“It’s about your little  _ side project--” _

“Little Geoffrey?”

He breathed out an awkward laugh. “Jonathan, I’ve not long been your progeny either.”

“Sorry. Do go on.”

Swansea raked his fingers through his own hair, and continued. “You’ve been off spending a lot of time working on your new progeny.”

“Now, Edgar. Don’t tell me you’re suddenly having a guilty conscience about this.” He chuckled darkly, stepping closer. He liked the way Swansea glanced up at him sheepishly and fidgeted with his lower lip. “We discussed this already and decided this was the way to break him in. Now isn’t the time to start criticising the way I treat our new addition.”

“Oh I’d never dream of that.” He stated bluntly. “I would never. There’s simply too much that could be learned from studying a nemrod up close, and this is a unique opportunity as most of them don’t linger to…  _ fraternise  _ with their makers. I know that uhm,  _ domesticating _ him will benefit us both but... It’s only that…”

Jonathan’s voice lowered to that particularly soft tone that he knew made the administrator feel at ease. “Tell me what’s on your mind, Edgar.”

“See I’m grateful. I really am, because at first I didn’t understand your vision. To make it worse, you had difficulty understanding mine.” He explained, not necessarily avoiding the subject but probably trying not to come across as demanding depending on what he was about to ask. “You and I both dream far beyond the typical and I’m glad we’ve found each other…”

“...However?”

“However I feel left out recently, you see. I felt a passion had been reignited in me when you blessed me with this little affliction. Truly, you made me feel more alive than ever - I know, that might sound a tad ironic considering the nature of it. Hearing your voice… The overpowering desire that started to overtake me…” Edgar was looking a little excited even recalling it as the vampiric condition seemed to often bring forth those kinds of feelings for him. “It’s something I always secretly yearned for. I’m thankful that you sired me, truly. I just wish that McCullum didn’t have to occupy so much of your time as of late.”

“Edgar…” Jonathan was taken aback slightly. “Are you perchance jealous?”

He froze on the spot, and his silence was as good an answer as anything he could say. 

Jonathan did feel slightly neglectful for not having enough time for him anymore. Swansea was his only other living progeny, and was extremely loyal. While the cat-and-mouse game he was playing with Geoffrey was a thrill for him he certainly enjoyed how eager to please Edgar could be. 

“You’re growing to be very strong, Edgar - very strong and loyal. You know how important you are to me.”

“Yes, I know very well.” He was gazing up at his maker with bashful but obvious yearning, weight shifting between his feet. 

“You will get your turn, soon. I promise.” He meant it with the utmost sincerity. “I’ll give you everything you deserve and more, Edgar.”

“Thank you.” He cracked a sickly little smile. “I will be looking forward to it, you know.”

“And you know I am pleased to hear that. I’m more grateful every day for how well behaved you are.”

It had been a gradual development between them. Jonathan had gleaned upon first meeting Swansea that he was somehow attracted to him. Even on that first night when he’d intruded on his room at the inn, bedraggled and smeared with blood stains there had been an obvious glimmer in Edgar’s eyes at the sight of him. This wasn’t a curse to him, but a gift. Others had often joked about his fascination with vampires being a fetish - even a sexual one. Redgrave himself had suggested that the surgeon had a propensity for creatures of the night. Each night that passed, Jonathan came to realise more and more that they may not have been far from the truth.

-

Abraham hadn’t yet left for patrol - for the first half of the night he’d been on guard duty on the upper floor of the theatre and he’d been itching to get out and hunt the entire time. He should have been on guard duty, no. He was a  _ Freudenstein  _ for fuck’s sake. 

He’d barely even finished tightening his bootstraps when a group of his colleagues approached - for a moment Abe jolted, froze and scoured his mind for their names. Perhaps he hadn’t yet been introduced to them though because he couldn’t for the life of him recall.

“Hey, you’re the kraut aren’t you?” One of them prodded him rudely in the centre of his forehead as if he were playing with some foreaign object.

Abraham frowned slightly. “I’m Freudenstein.”

The young man looked at him for a long moment, brow drawn tight and arms crossing over his chest. His face was slightly grubby and he had a round little button of a nose, lopsided and with a small barely noticeable scar on one side of the bridge.

His fingers instinctually ghosted over the scabbard of his weapon as he detected the slightly malicious intent the young priwen hunter was radiating.

“You’re the  _ kraut. _ ” He stated, as if correcting a child who had unintentionally used the wrong word. “Try to remember that next time.”

He hoped to make a quick exit to avoid a difficult conversation. Unfortunately, the group of young men were taking precautions to obstruct his path. They flanked him, slowly moving closer in an attempt to back him into the corner. Still, he didn’t intend to fight with them. These young men were hateful, yes, but they were still human. A Freudenstein would have no right to his name if he used his skills for such frivolities.

“I think I remembered my own name just fine.” He said, standing his ground. “I have some work to do, and I don’t want to be late for my patrol.”

They didn’t stop, of course. They just continued to advance on him. 

“You know, I immigrated here at a very young age. I’m not involved with the country I come from either.” He tried to explain. “If you’re looking for a scapegoat to take out your war traumas on, I’m not going to fill that role very well.  _ Das tut mir leid. _ ”

His face scrunched with annoyance. “Don’t speak that ridiculous language in front of me, kraut.”

“Force of habit. Sorry.” He sighed. “I simply want you to understand I belong here as much as you do. I grew up here.”

He certainly didn’t like that - grabbing Abe by the coat he pulled him in and raised his fist in threat. “You do  _ not  _ belong here like I do. You’re a fucking German, not an Englishman. This is not your country.  _ Your  _ country is the enemy.”

There wasn’t really much else that he could say, so he simply stared back at him blankly.

“The state of your coat, too. You’re embarrassing.” He continued. “I thought your lot was supposed to be special or something. Can’t your toff parents afford to get you new clothes? I bet you’re not even that tough. I’ve killed plenty of you krauts in the trenches. What makes you any better?”

“I’d rather not be compared so readily to--”

He was interrupted by a harsh blow to the cheek, and for a moment he could hear his ears ringing from the impact. Shaking his head and blinking hard until his eyes came back into focus, he looked up at his assailant in surprise.

“Is that really--”

This time he hit harder - a backhand.

“Anything else to say?”

He went to speak but couldn’t think of anything. He’d assumed that being passive would at least spare him the violence, but it seemed there was no escaping it. He sobbed instead, realising this.

“Are you done flapping your ugly mouth?”

Abraham couldn't fight back. The only option was to let it happen.

A fist collided with his diaphragm and he resisted the urge to vomit. He could taste bile on his breath, and he let out a wheeze. They laughed - laughed like his suffering was the funniest thing they had witnessed in years. Salt water welled up in his eyes and his vision was obscured by it - their faces were blurring out of sight up until the moment he was thrown from his feet with surprising upper body strength.

He collided first with the floor and then with the solid wall nearby, and as he grunted in pain and tried to rise to his knees a dirty boot connected with his ribcage to keep him down.

After that point he lost count of how many times he was hit. It just felt like he was being rained on with bursts of pain and all he could hear was their laughter - almost deafening.

At some point it seemed they grew tired of hitting him, because it somehow stopped. He inhaled sharply and realised that he’d been crying, his face covered now in a layer of wetness. Everything felt sore, everywhere.


End file.
